


Pour Me (I'm Floating Out to Sea)

by aliveagainavenger



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Homesickness, Jon Snow - Freeform, Jon Snow knows nothing, Sansa Stark - Freeform, Slow Burn, coffee shop AU, i am such a sucker for coffee fics, i just had a lot of feelings about 6x10 ok, jonsa, no spoilers (that i know of), reconnecting, sansa is an artist, they're not related it's ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliveagainavenger/pseuds/aliveagainavenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh Jon,” Sansa laughed, pulling him closer, “I’ve wasted so many years…”</p><p>Jon runs the Stark family coffee shop, and one rainy summer finds himself reunited with a homesick Sansa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> stole the name for this fic from a Rare™ Coldplay song.
> 
> hope y'all enjoy xo

“Well this is certainly a change.”

 

Sansa looked up from Jon’s phone, picking at the rubber on the aux cord that was attached to an outdated speaker set on the spare bench.

 

“It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do,” she said, the boredom clearly showing in her voice. 

 

She’d switched the usual relaxed jazz music playing in the coffee shop to some vintage indie tunes. What she’d said was true though. Sansa, Jon, Theon and Sam had milled around that day as the rain had poured and poured outside. They’d only had two customers that day, and Sam had cleaned everything twice. Jon was sipping his third cup of coffee, even though he didn’t need it. Theon was out the back, eating half-stale lemon cakes from the fridge. It was only 2 in the afternoon, but everyone was already starting to get twitchy. 

 

“Aw come on Sansa, people already think I’m enough of a hipster,” Jon groaned halfheartedly as the Smiths began to play. Sansa laughed at that.

 

“To be fair Jon, you do have a man-bun.”

 

He sighed and pulled out the hair-tie, his inky-black mop of curls falling to frame his face. As Jon nibbled at the edge of his paper coffee cup, Sansa turned around so he couldn’t see her smile. She loved Jon’s messy hair, but she didn’t dare admit it. As she was thinking about how much she’d rather like to run her fingers through it, Jon wondered about how he could distance himself from the label of ‘hipster’. Looking around Stark Family Coffee Co., he realised that this might be a harder task than he’d originally anticipated. He decided not to let it bother him as he knocked back the dregs of his coffee, and looked at Sansa. 

 

She had moved her chair to the window, and she sat with her chin on top of crossed arms as she stared blankly at the rain; fiery red hair spilling over her shoulders. It was Jon’s turn to smile now, and he thought about how lovely it was to have her visit for a few months. She was off studying at college, following her dreams of becoming an artist. Jon was very proud of her, but he hadn’t anticipated how much he’d actually missed her until she was back again, bringing with her the light and warmth of summertime, smiling and dancing and laughing and hugging him tightly; saying how she’d missed him so.

 

Jon’s musings were interrupted by raised voices coming from the back room. 

 

“Theon,” came Sam’s stern voice, “now I’m certain you’re just eating for the sake of it.”

 

“What? Me? Nahhh,” Theon mumbled rather unconvincingly as he polished off another lemon cake. 

 

“Yeah yeah.” Sam rolled his eyes. “What do you think Jon?”

 

“Huh?” Jon replied, looking into the back room to find Theon sitting cross-legged on the food prep bench, Sam with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“What do I think about what?”

 

“Theon Kill-joy over here eating all the lemon cakes.”

 

“WHAT?!?” Sansa yelped as she abandoned her position at the window and dashed to the back room, plucking the container out of Theon’s hands. Jon and Sam laughed as she took the sweet treats back to the window. Theon pouted.

 

Lemon cakes were Sansa’s favourite, a treat she had always cooked with her mother growing up. Robb would sometimes bake them for her birthday, but not before he’d eaten a few. Lemon cakes meant family, and Sansa thought about how much she missed them as she idly traced her finger on the top of the container. She wouldn’t see them for another two weeks. Her parents were on a business trip with Rickon in tow, Bran and Arya were still at school, and Robb was off being a fancy lawyer and looking after his wife and baby son. And Jon. Jon Snow was not her brother, but had come to the Stark family under dubious circumstances. Ned and Cat didn’t like to talk about it much, but from what Sansa had gathered, his mother had died and his father had disappeared soon after that. It was enough to pacify everyone, but Robb, Sansa, and especially Jon knew that it was a lot more complicated than that. But Ned was saddened and Cat grew angry when any of them pressed for details. So they’d learned to just leave it. Still, Jon lay awake some nights, wondering about who he really was and where he'd come from. 

 

Ghost, Jon’s fiercely loyal white husky, padded out from his napping spot under the back table and settled down again around Sansa’s feet, tongue hanging out of his mouth contentedly. She leaned down and scratched his head as her own spun with longing and homesickness and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Something that had crept in when she’d seen Jon again for the first time in months. Something that made her stare the other morning at Jon’s muscled torso peeking out from under his t-shirt as he’d reached up for new coffee beans off the shelf. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. This wasn’t what she needed right now. _Just enjoy being here with your friends,_ she scolded herself internally. Sansa turned from the rainy window to see what they were up to. Jon was staring at the coffee machine, contemplating whether or not to make himself another cup. Sam and Theon had forgotten their spat over the lemon cakes it seemed, and had instead found some old newspapers used for cleaning the windows. Sam was reading his with a blank expression, and Theon was busy gifting everyone in his with black biro facial hair. 

 

Just as Jon reached up to turn the machine back on, Sansa shot him a look. _That's not a very good idea_ _,_ it said. Jon sighed and then dragged a chair over to the window to sit by Sansa. 

 

“Thanks,” he said , his breath fogging up the corner of the glass pane. 

 

“What for?”

 

“For stopping me from doing a Theon and just eating for the sake of it,” Jon grinned.

 

“Hey!” yelled Theon, “I heard that!”

 

Sansa just laughed and looked out the window again as she remembered the last time Jon had had too much caffeine, and had serenaded her with Robb’s old ukulele. Sansa had done her best not to cringe, and later a sobered Jon had requested that she never tell a soul. 

 

“Are you actually going to eat those?” Jon asked, snapping Sansa back to reality as she picked at the container. 

 

“Nah,” she said, “they’re a bit too stale.”

 

“Not too stale for Theon, apparently.” 

 

“Jon, this is Theon we’re talking about here. He’ll eat anything.”

 

“True.”

 

Jon paused thoughtfully for a moment.

 

“You miss everyone, don’t you Sans?”

Sansa sighed and rested her chin on the box. 

 

“Yeah I do. It’s been six months already.” She looked at Jon.

 

“I am happy to see you Jon. I really am.” Jon smiled. “But I miss Robb and Arya and Mum and Dad and Rickon and Bran. I just want to go home.”

 

“I understand,” he replied, “you’ve been away for a long time.”

 

“Don’t think I didn’t miss you too Jon,” Sansa said. Her voice was a low quiver, her eyes wide and serious. “I'm not even sure I can tell you how much I missed you.”

 

“I know.” Jon found himself holding his breath a little as he tucked a stray piece of red, wavy hair over her shoulder. Jon saw the corners of her mouth curve into a wistful smile. 

 

“We’ll bake some fresh lemon cakes together tomorrow, hey.”

 

Sansa nodded, and Ghost barked an agreement. 

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

Jon checked the time. It was 3:30. It was still pouring outside, still cold and the shop was still customer-less. He sighed and turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’. 

 

“Alright fellas,” he said, calling out to Sam and Theon. “Early run today.” 

 

That was all the encouragement they needed, both dashing out to grab their belongings and umbrellas. They thanked Jon as they headed out to their cars in the downpour. 

 

Jon gave the shop a once-over before he shrugged and looked to Sansa and Ghost.

 

“Hometime?” he asked.

 

“Yes please,” Sansa replied, smiling and gathering her things, tucking the container of lemon cakes under her arm. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updating! Sorry for like a week's wait lel...

Jon drove slowly on the way home, not wanting to have any sort of accident in weather like this. Sansa watched as Jon stared out at the road, frowning as the rain thundered down onto the windshield. 

 

When they finally pulled up to Jon’s modest flat, dried themselves off and were warm in front of a fire on the couch, Sansa visibly relaxed. She melted back against the couch as the fire warmed her damp bones. Jon had sat himself next to Sansa, but didn’t sit too close. _Don’t be weird_ , he thought to himself. 

 

“Jon,” began Sansa suddenly after a long, peaceful silence, “Did you miss me while I was away at college?” 

 

“Of course.” His reply was soft and gentle.

 

“No; I mean really miss me.”

 

Jon was thoughtful before saying,

 

“I guess I must have. But it didn’t really hit me until I saw you again the other week. Just how much I’d missed you - I mean.” 

 

Sansa let out a soft, pensive hum. Jon ran his fingers through his curls, chewing his lip. He wasn’t too sure where this was heading or what was going on.

 

“I know you, Jon,” she said finally, “but I don’t feel like I _really_ know you. Uh, just, who you are as a person, I guess. I mean I do - but not really. You know?”

 

Sansa cringed at the mess of words she’d heard herself say. Jon just sat there, frowning. He was trying to process all this but wasn’t getting too far. He thought of Sansa, and how he knew she loved lemon cakes; but he still hadn’t figured out her sense of humour. Or knew her favourite colour. Or paid attention to her habits. He wasn’t even sure who her friends were. He turned and looked her in the eye.

 

“I know what you mean.” He looked away quickly, beginning to feel a bit ashamed of himself. “I guess I don’t really know you either.”

 

During their childhood, Jon had been all but a stranger to Sansa. Between different schools, vastly differing interests and the constant thought in Sansa’s young, impressionable head that _Jon isn’t my real brother_ , they didn’t know and understand one another, at least not like Jon and Arya did.

 

As Sansa looked at him, she no longer saw the Jon she once knew, a shy, dutiful, boy who longed for a place in a strange family and a strange world; but Jon Snow - a man. The past few days she’d spent in close company with him had revealed him to be soft and caring, strong and protective, cheeky yet responsible. Someone who knew what he wanted in life and was content with who he was.

 

Without warning, Sansa threw herself into Jon’s arms. Jon slowly placed his arms around her as tears began to drip down her porcelain cheeks. 

 

“Jon I’m so sorry,” she mumbled into his shoulder, “I’m so sorry. I’ve had my whole life to get to know you but I didn’t make any effort and sometimes I didn’t even _want_ to! I’m a terrible excuse for a sister and even worse for a friend.” 

 

Jon stroked her fiery hair, feeling saddened. 

 

“Can you ever forgive me?”

 

“Sansa, I’m just as guilty,” he replied, faltering. “I always loved the paintings you did and all the things you made. I should have told you. But for some reason I never did.”

 

Sansa looked up and into Jon’s big brown eyes; they were glistening with tears. 

 

“You loved my paintings?” she asked hopefully.

 

“More than I loved Mum’s chicken soup.”

 

“Oh Jon,” Sansa laughed, pulling him closer. The tears were flowing freely now. “I’ve wasted so many years…”

 

Jon kissed her hair tenderly.

 

“Alright then,” he said, “let’s not waste any more time.”

 

Sansa looked at him a little confusedly, but allowed Jon to gently wipe the tears away from her eyes and tuck her under his strong arm. She snuggled in, breathing in his musky scent.

 

“Favourite colour?” he began.

“Uh, oh man… so many…  erm, electric blue?”

“Favourite place in the whole world?”

“The Godswood. Behind Winterfell.”

 

That made sense. Jon had seen Sansa spend countless hours there as a child, weaving blades of grass, climbing the wierwood trees and playing make-pretend in the crisp first snow.

 

“Somewhere you really want to travel”

“Uh… Dorne. In the sunshine!”

“Something that really annoys you?”

“People talking on their phones at the checkout”

 

Jon laughed at that one.

 

“My turn now,” said Sansa.

 

“Biggest fear?”

“Wow… um, flying?”

“Dream job?”

“I’m already living the dream.”

 

Sansa smiled and laughed. It was good to see Jon so happy and content. 

 

“Okay okay,” he said. “My hair. Keep it or cut it?”

 

“WHAT!?” Sansa exclaimed. “I hope you’re joking Jon Snow. Don’t you dare cut your beautiful hair!”

 

Jon raised his eyebrows and gave Sansa a sly look. 

 

“So you love my hair, do you now?” he winked.

 

Sansa blushed, knowing she’d said too much. Jon nudged her. There was no getting out of this one.

 

“Ugh, fine. I love your hair.”

 

“What about my fabulous beard?” He jokingly stroked the soft stubble.

 

“Yeah yeah, whatever Jon”

 

“And my dashing good looks?”

 

Sansa blushed even harder.

 

“Don’t push it mister.”

 

Jon laughed, making his face light up and confirming his previous statement. Then he grew serious again.

 

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” he asked. Sansa had to stop and think about that one.

 

“Well… a successful artist?” she began. “Running my own business I think.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe even get married,” Sansa laughed, “and living somewhere sunny I hope.”

“That sounds lovely,” Jon agreed, and he tightened his arm a little around her. 

 

“Yeah.” Sansa could feel Jon’s heart beating a bit faster against his chest. Maybe she wasn’t so crazy after all for having what she’d now identified as a crush on him. 

 

As his heart raced, Jon thought that now might be the proper time to go and attend to something else, or to change the topic of the conversation. But instead they remained wrapped up on the couch, with years of what could have been flowing wordlessly between them. 

 

The fire then died out, and Jon realised he’d have to go out and get some more wood.

 

“Sorry Sansa,” he sighed as got up and headed to the back door, grabbing an old raincoat. 

 

“Jon, you could always turn the heating on,” she said.

 

Jon thought back to his last electricity bill and cringed.

 

“Err, I better not.”

 

Sansa just laughed at him.

 

“Don’t worry about it me, Jon. I’ll be fine.”

 

“You’ll regret that when it’s freezing cold after dark,” he replied as he went outside. There wasn’t really any stopping Jon once he’d made up his mind about something. 

 

Sansa exhaled and tried to gather her thoughts. _He really seems to like me. He kissed my head, played with my hair and practically snuggled me,_ she mused as she got up and went to Jon’s modest kitchen, with the intention of making some form of dinner. _And not to mention how jittery he got when I mentioned getting married…_

 

As she looked for something edible in the fridge, she tried to steel the butterflies in her stomach. She scolded herself for acting like a teenage girl. _I’m still trying to get to know him. One thing at a time, Sansa._ She set to work making dinner.

 

By the time Jon came back in, dinner was bubbling on the stove, the smell of bolognaise and pasta filling the air. Jon had managed to get quite wet, since he’d used his raincoat to keep the wood dry. His raven hair dripped on his shoulders as he set the wood down, his thin grey t-shirt clinging to his body. Sansa could see just about every muscle in his torso, and she quickly looked away before Jon caught her staring. 

 

She stirred the sauce, trying to look casual. Sansa had seen and had plenty of handsome men asking for her favour in her twenty years. But Jon seemed different, and Sansa thought that everything about Jon looked honest. Like how his torso hadn’t been sculpted through hours of working on his own appearance at the gym, but rather through selfless, hard, honest labor. For the few days since she’d been staying with Jon, this had certainly proved true for his personality too. Almost everything he did and said was in concern to somebody else. Even in his free time, Jon was always looking for ways to entertain Ghost. As she divided the pasta and sauce into two bowls, Sansa wondered if he ever took time out for himself.

 

 

*****

 

 

“Wow - this pasta is pretty great.”

 

Sansa laughed as Jon comically licked his plate. When he’d had enough, he offered it to Ghost. Jon then pretended to lick it after Ghost was done with it, and Sansa pulled a face.

“Jon, that’s so gross!” she said with a laugh.

 

“Just sharing the love,” he replied with a cheeky grin on his face. Ghost barked happily and nuzzled Jon, Jon scratching his ears affectionately.

 

“Did you see anything in there for dessert?” he asked.

 

“Well, there’s stale lemon cakes and about two scoops of ice-cream in the freezer.”

 

“Good thing I’m still pretty hungry.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Later, they’d showered and gotten ready for bed. Sansa shivered. Since it was summertime, she hadn’t packed anything warm enough to shield her from the cold that had settled in after a day of rain and no sunshine. Indeed, it was still raining steadily outside.

 

“Sans, you look freezing,” Jon said, looking concerned.

 

“I am a bit,” she replied.

 

Jon disappeared for a few seconds, only to return with an old jumper of his. He offered it to Sansa, and she accepted gratefully.

 

As she put Jon’s jumper on, she resisted the urge to bury her face in it and breathe in Jon’s scent. _Don’t be weird Sansa,_ she chided,  _You'll put him off._

 

Oblivious to Sansa’s inner dialogue, Jon pulled her in for a warm hug. Sansa smiled and relaxed in his arms.

 

“Sweet dreams, Sansa,” he mumbled into her hair.

 

“Have a good sleep Jon,” she replied.

 

When they pulled away from their embrace, Sansa already missed his warmth. As she was about to turn and go to her room, Jon leant in and gave Sansa a lingering kiss on the cheek. There was a look in his eye that she couldn’t quite decipher as she tried not to blush. 

 

“Goodnight,” she said, her cheek tingling from the contact.

 

“Goodnight.” 

 

Jon’s smile was wistful as he looked at her walking up the hallway to her room. He made sure Ghost was comfortable by the fire before getting into his own bed.

 

Sansa curled up in bed, too tired to think deeply about what had transpired between her and Jon just then. Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed in the comforting smell of Jon’s old jumper as she drifted off into a blissful sleep.

 

Despite wearing his winter pyjamas, Jon was still chilly. The rain and the cold were starting to get to him, he thought. As he lay shivering slightly in his bed, he couldn’t help but think that he’d be warmer if Sansa were beside him.


End file.
